


Up In Flames

by MaybeWren



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Gen, Heavy Angst, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Mild Hurt/Comfort, POV Alternating, Scratching, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-15 05:47:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28558563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaybeWren/pseuds/MaybeWren
Summary: Wilbur has been trying to chase away the apathy for as long as he can remember.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 65





	Up In Flames

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, a couple of warnings for this one. It's basically a mental breakdown. It deals with spiraling in the attempt to feel something. At one point Wilbur scratches himself to the point of bleeding. Please be careful.

Wilbur doesn't remember a time where there wasn't apathy. He can remember times when something penetrated the wall, but he can't remember not having it. The times something penetrated it Wilbur will do anything to make the feeling stay. He would chase the laughs of his friends, hands still covered in ink from writing fake facts. 

He remembers the first time he saw her, standing in the river. A gentle grin was on her face as Wilbur gave her story after story, song after song. He gave her a piece of his soul that was stolen the day she swam upstream.  The piece came back in the form of a fox pup. It should be impossible, but so should many other things. Wilbur would swear that the joy he felt was only rivaled by when he met his brothers and dad.

Even then, the apathy remained. Numbness veiled his being as Wilbur tried harder and harder to feel something more. Time after time he almost gets arrested, pushing his luck to the limit. He babies the child that seems to despise him more, but Wilbur needs to feel the joy again.  He watched with wide eyes as his son left, but ultimately felt unsurprised. Both of his parents were wanderers after all. More time passed as letters from his family scattered the places Wilbur left behind. There was so much to do and feel, none of which would happen while sitting down to write.

He found himself in a smp with a familiar face, one it felt like he hadn't seen in ages. Unlike their other brother or dad, Tommy doesn't yell at him for not writing. Instead Wilbur is dragged on a tour with an eye out for chaos. There's a boy Tommy's met with brown hair and a love for bees. He introduced himself as Wilbur, and in return came the name Tubbo. If Wilbur didn't know better he would say Tubbo is another brother. Maybe he is, it's been a while since he's stopped to read the letters. It's easy far too easy to remember a talent that's gotten Wilbur in trouble before. The ingredients can be tricky to get but Tubbo's always willing to gather supplies.

Wilbur meets his son again. He can't remember when he became this tall. Neither Tommy or Fundy know their relationship to the other. After all, Wilbur had the tendency to skip large pieces in his letters. He can tell Fundy hates being treated like a child again. Wilbur can't find it in himself to stop. Maybe he can feel the happiness again. He just has to try harder. It’ll happen soon.

The revolution came and went. Eret, fuck Eret. It's been a long time since Wilbur felt such hatred. It's almost addicting. Tommy gave his life only to fail, so instead he gave his disks. Wilbur had watched with mild curiosity as Tommy felt the rage to duel then grief at losing. He thinks Phil and Techno gave Tommy the discs, but he can't be sure.

Peacetime let the numbness fester. He couldn't feel anything, and he was almost rewarded for it. He became a wise mentor, a calm figure. Ice clawed at Wilbur's insides and he wanted to dig it out. He decides to run for president. Maybe winning will bring back some joy. Maybe another successful scam will bring in the feeling of pride.

  
  


_ It doesn't. _

  
  


Schlatt banishes him and Tommy from the country. The adrenaline fills him and Wilbur is almost giddy. The run for their lives is glorious. There were undercurrents of a familiar sting. Betrayal had sunk it's claws in once more.  Tommy convinces Techno to join the server. Wilbur had stood in Pogtopia and watched as the two tumbled in. Techno's voice quickly died down at the sight of Wilbur. He thinks that he's changed quite a bit since she last saw Techno. Maybe he's more scuffed up. Maybe his clothes are far more worn. Maybe his hair is longer. Maybe the ice has settled in for a stay.

Whatever it is, Techno doesn't comment. Wilbur doesn't know if that's good or bad. At this point he doesn't care. The rage sparking in Wilbur feels good. It's different from the numbness he's known his whole life. It takes the forefront, apathy relegated to a lesser role. Wilbur thinks he must be a villain. Only they feel this amount of rage and take delight in it. If he is a villain, Wilbur will be the best villain anyone's ever seen.

He can't remember the last time he read a letter from Phil. It's not that he's scared, Wilbur just has so many other things to do. Planting the bombs and working with redstone takes a lot of time. It had been far too easy to convince Dream to give him the tnt. If he's a villain, he may as well side with one  Wilbur can tell Tommy thinks his sanity is slipping. It's not, no matter what the others say. The rage is a nice feeling, a brighter spark than joy. He's not quite sure what it felt like anymore. The rage and apathy are all he can remember.

The unopened letters begin to pile up in Wilbur's room. He knows that Techno has noticed the stack just like he knows that Tommy hasn't. It's been years since he's written to Phil, and he won't start now. He thinks Tommy is avoiding him. Wilbur doesn't blame him. The cocktail of rage, mania, and apathy has spilled over several times in his presence. If Wilbur met this version of himself he knows that he would hate him.

The festival is a blur. He thinks he got Tommy and Techno to fight. He keeps chasing more feelings. Wilbur doesn't care to remember much anymore. He may as well fit their picture of a madman. His brothers seem scared of him, but Wilbur doesn't care. Every time he enters a room they leave. It's fine, he'll just find something else to do. Normally he would play the guitar, but he left that in Manburg. His prized possession is no longer his. In all honesty, Wilbur wouldn't be surprised if Schlatt burned it.

The thought of his guitar burning brings a spark of hatred. A giggle leaves Wilbur as he basks. It had been a while since he felt something. The abandoned stack of letters has only gotten taller. He thinks Phil would be disappointed but can’t find it in himself to care. It’s been years, why should he start writing now? 

Wilbur used to write but nothing seemed to happen. He used to read, but that time could be spent chasing emotions. Maybe one day he will find one and it will stick. Maybe one day he’ll shatter the wall of apathy and numbness. In the meantime he will chase anything that can make his rage bubble and roll in it.  Everyone seems to avoid him. It’s fine. He’ll just locate and rebuild the tnt. He knows that despite having everyone on their side they will still fail. Even back when he was a young boy Wilbur knew the gods were against him. They tested him over and over and over, never seeming to leave him alone.

Manburg will go up in flames. When that happens two of Wilbur’s fears should be conquered. He read about exposure therapy once, or maybe Techno had ranted. He couldn’t care which, just that it exists. If he dials it up to eleven it should help even faster, or at least send him waves of fear. He needs it.

Tommy wants to bring someone onto the smp to join them. Wilbur doesn’t care. Techno is backing him and Dream still needs to be convinced. He’s too busy attempting to chase adrenaline. Break the numbness, let the emotions overwhelm him. Fully feel something again.  Earlier that day Tubbo attempted to corner Wilbur in one of the hallways. Emotions had been bubbling in his skin all day, then sensation getting more and more familiar. He’s not sure which ones they are anymore. It’s fuzzy, but Wilbur thinks he yelled at Tubbo. Everything has been fuzzy. He thinks Tommy heard and ran over, still overprotective of his best friend. Wilbur thinks they screamed at each other for ages, Tubbo cowering just out of sight.

He now stands in the button room, the L’manburg anthem etched into the walls with jagged handwriting. His handwriting used to be relatively neat, it had to be. Easily skimmed when reviewing songs and official documents. He thinks it’s deteriorating alongside his mental state. There’s almost a sense of comfort in his shaky writing that gouges pages. His sense of control is been slipping

The air is still as he places the tnt, humming the anthem under his breath. At this point the room is no longer a secret but it’s still treated as such. Wilbur’s hands burn from the consistent handling of chemicals but he can barely feel it. Shards of ice are trapped under his skin and Wilbur wants them out. 

Wilbur places another block, but does not reach to grab one more. He pulls off the trench coat that has become a constant and scratches. He goes and goes and goes, no one around to stop him. Maybe if he digs deep enough Wilbur will reach deep enough to pull out the shards. Maybe if he scratches hard enough the emotions will spew out from his veins. Blood makes its way into his fingernails, but Wilbur keeps going. No one will notice, no will will care. No one is here right now.

He digs deeper, scratches harder. Wilbur can feel his communicator vibrate but ignores it. Nothing important has gone through for days. The blood now decorating his fingers is almost beautiful. He continues, facing away from the entrance.  Someone grabs Wilbur’s hands and he flinches. When did someone join them? He can’t place whose hands. He should be able to. Wilbur widely looks around, managing to turn around. Phil has a concerned look on his face and Wilbur blinks. When did Phil get here? Why is he here? It’s been years.

He struggles weakly but fatigue eats at his bones. Wilbur can’t remember when he last ate. Techno and Niki have been trying, he thinks, but he can’t recall. When was the last time he got a full night’s rest? His eyelids are weighted and Wilbur lets himself succumb to sleep for the first time in ages.

* * *

Phil’s not sure what to think when the letters he receives come covered in dirt and grime. Most of the time he can blame it on Tommy’s recklessness, but it started to feel different just a bit back. The letters are his favorite part of the week. He loves Tommy’s response packed with energy and Techno’s wit. They could technically use communicators, but it feels far less personal. Letters are second best only to actually seeing each other.

Phil can’t remember the last time he received one from Wilbur. He had been the first one to set off, determined to make the world see him as more than his family. He watched as the slowly lost detail until they stopped altogether. Wilbur’s communicator still had location, so Phil still sent Wilbur letters. He can at least give him the option of reaching out.  Techno had left not long after Wil. The first time Phil heard whispers of a so-called Blood God he smiled. Techno had always had a knack for combat. The first few reunions Wilbur had came back home, greeted by a smiling Tommy. Secretly, Phil feels shame for not knowing when was the last time Wilbur went to one.  When Tommy set off, Phil made him promise to write and come home. He doesn’t want to make the same mistakes, he wants Tommy to feel safe. The pen becomes another of Phil’s weapons, even if he wields it far more clumsy than his oldest son ever did.

When it turns out Tommy found Wilbur, Phil was delighted. In all honesty he never expected to hear from him again. Instead now he can see Wilbur in Tommy’s words. He can see a mixture of Tommy’s choppy excitement combined with Wilbur’s poetic grace. Phil knows there are things that Tommy keeps out of his letters. He’s not an idiot, he can tell when his kids are lying. He knows that Techno left his farm to join his brothers.

The letters begin to gather dirt and grime. It feels different from what’s left over from childhood joy. Phil does what any parent would do and asks if everythings alright. He waits, re-reading all the past letters. It’s been years since Wilbur has sent one. There are large gaps and all of his information comes from Tommy and, to a lesser extent, Techno.

Phil hadn’t expected the offer to be whitelisted. He thought that Dream, a boy who he’s never met but can feel Tommy’s old hatred for, would hold firm and never let in those he doesn’t know. He’s quick to send a message with his communicator, and for some reason when it dings out with an invitation to join.  He hadn’t expected the spawn to be trapped, but looking back he’s not sure why. An unfamiliar boy lets him free and introduces himself as Tubbo. He seems far more sorrowful than the letters portrayed. Phil follows Tubbo through the woods until they come to a cliff. Tubbo digs at some blocks and Phil steps through.  He’s not sure what he expected Pogtopia to be, but it wasn’t this. The stairs have no railing, but that’s not what Phil is focused on. The ravine is much more glamorous than he thought, even if most of it is covered in buttons Tubbo told him not to touch. He reaches the landing and is ambushed by a teary Tommy.  Phil gently wraps his arms around Tommy and whispers reassurances. His heart breaks more at each sob Tommy lets out. Phil lifts his head and watches Techno come out from a side room. He nods, and Techno jogs over and joins. He’s not sure how long they stand there, but Techno is the first to remove himself. 

“Where’s Wilbur?” Phil asks.

He watches Tommy and Techno glance at each other. Techno pulls at his fingers. Tommy eyes all the exits. Tubbo bites his lip, and Phil thinks he might see blood. He wants to comfort them, but he’s also concerned for Wilbur. His letters had stopped long ago, and the last one felt more like the ravings of a madman than his son who would spend hours with his guitar. 

“He, uh, well, there’s this room. Actually, let me backup. So, we were kicked out of our country, right? A-And Wilbur didn't like that. So, he kinda went insane? And dug out this room. It-It has this button. And, he- he  _ says _ it’s connected with TNT. He’s been threatening to blow Manburg up for  _ weeks _ and- and what if he does? Phil, I don’t know what to do. It’s fucking insane in there,” Tommy rambles.

Phil recoils, cold washing over his body. Tommy is still talking but Phil can’t focus. This isn’t his Wilbur. This isn’t the boy who would smile and play tricks with his friends. This isn’t the boy who would hum while doing his chores. This isn’t the boy who would comfort his Tommy by softly singing for him late at night. This isn’t the boy Phil knew.

“Where’s the room?” Phil asks, voice harsh.

Tubbo stutters out directions and Phil takes off. He runs through the unfamiliar lands and comes upon a hole in a hill. He walks through the tiny tunnel and pauses. The trench coat that the letters claim Wilbur never takes off anymore lays on the stone floor. The walls are covered with messily written lyrics to the L’Manburg anthem. A wooden button sits on the wall, and if Tommy is to be believed, it’s connected to lots of tnt. In the center of the disaster room sits the collapsed form of Wilbur. Phil slowly makes his way over, trying to keep quiet. With each step the sight only gets more distressing. Wilbur’s fingers have a thin layer of blood but he keeps on scratching. Phil kneels down in front of Wilbur and grabs his hands. He can only watch as Wilbur’s head snaps up and looks around before settling on Phil. His eyes are cloudy and blinking does not clear them. Wilbur’s struggles do nothing and Phil’s face softens. Even on his bad days in the past Wilbur could put up at least some fight. The struggles weaken until Wilbur goes still, and Phil lets out a sigh.

In his rush, Phil took no medical supplies with him. In all honesty, he hadn’t expected to need any. He settles for awkwardly wrangling Wilbur into his arms. It shouldn’t have been as easy as it was. When was the last time Wilbur ate? How long has he been deteriorating without anyone noticing? It had been years since the last time Wilbur sent a letter.

He lands in front of the entrance to Pogtopia. He shuffles Wilbur around again before making his way back into the ravine. People Phil doesn’t recognize have joined the three he left behind. He walks past them and sets Wilbur down on a bed. He riffles through the chests until he manages to find cloth and some water. He wets some and starts wiping Wilbur’s arms and hands down. With a bit of scrubbing the blood comes off and Phil can’t help but wince at the scars he can’t remember Wilbur having. He has nothing to disinfect the scratches so Phil settles for just wrapping them.

He sets the leftover cloth down and pauses. Wilbur has changed so much since Phil had last seen him, a young boy determined to explore the realms. He’s gotten taller and his hair’s longer. New scars decorate Wilbur’s body, stories that Phil’s never been told. He reaches a hand out and brushes the hair out of Wilbur’s closed eyes. There’s new lines in his face, and bags deeper than Phil can remember. Where did he go wrong?

He feels a hand fall onto his shoulder and Phil looks up. Techno stands beside him, providing silent support. 

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah. I'm out of the apathy and anger now. Don't worry about me, I'm completely fine and safe. This was written months ago and I never even came close to Wilbur's point. Please be kind to me, in case you can't tell my mental state is still a bit fragile.
> 
> Also, tell me if I miss any triggers or tags. I don't want someone to click on and be triggered when I could have prevented it.  
>    
> [Main Tumblr](https://maybewren.tumblr.com/)  
> [Photography Tumblr](https://maybetherephotos.tumblr.com/)  
> [Poetry Tumblr](https://maybetherewriting.tumblr.com/)


End file.
